


Special Restrictions

by Highsmith (quimtessence)



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Academic Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Academic Nicky | Nicolo di Genova, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Immortal (The Old Guard), British Museum, First Meetings, Flirting, Heist, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Inspired By Tumblr, Inspired by Art, London, M/M, Meet-Cute, Reverse Indiana Jones Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:48:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27168157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quimtessence/pseuds/Highsmith
Summary: In principle, Joe has nothing against collaboration as he both likes people well enough and he is, after all, in this line of business tohelp. However, dropping from a rather high ceiling without hitting the oak and mahogany floors while doing one's best to rob a British public institution is not the sort of job for which one wants others around.Or, Joe robs from the rich and gives to... pretty much anyone else. Nicky is simply stumbling onto the scene of a well-meaning crime.(Inspired bythis post/art.)
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 86
Kudos: 529





	Special Restrictions

**Author's Note:**

> To the SRI agent monitoring my Google Search Results: Mind your own business! Look, if the British Museum gets robbed, it's not on me, pal.

In principle, Joe has nothing against collaboration as he both likes people well enough and he is, after all, in this line of business to _help_. However, dropping from a rather high ceiling without hitting the oak and mahogany floors while doing one's best to rob a British public institution is not the sort of job for which one wants others around.

Don't get him wrong, he'd certainly appreciate someone having his back for a change, but he can't even begin to fathom approaching anyone with an offer of— What, exactly? Skydiving indoors for the purposes of breaking and entering, coupled with a wee bit of international-scale theft?

Realistically, at the very least having another person on the outside wouldn't go amiss, but he's not exactly in a position to advertise. Booker's already a risk, but the least untrustworthy Joe could find to take care of moving the piece. Besides, the dropping from the ceiling bit isn't for amateurs.

There's no doubt he's in the Enlightenment Room. It truly feels as if he's in a life-sized cabinet of curiosities, which only makes it that much creepier when hanging off a rope in the middle of a rather large room. The lights, dim as they are, reflect off the glass at strange angles, lending the odd unnerving glare to varied objects around him. Technically, his one-hour window started when he entered the building almost thirty minutes ago, which means he's got almost no time to take care of business before he needs to leave if he wants to avoid the next security walk-through.

Dropping down systematically takes far longer than he expected, but the security camera feed is set to yesterday's footage, which he diligently checks once his feet finally touch the floor. He misses his phone, but he can't risk the signal interfering with any frequency in the building, and the tablet does have the added benefit of not being able to be tracked to him if he were to drop it or inadvertently leave it behind.

Glass cutters are always a bother when the case has a vibration detector in place, but this one happens to be digital. Switching it off is too risky, but he easily installs the software for it and adjusts the sensitivity until it allows his cutter to work undetected.

It's still a delicate process, made even more so given he has to use his own folding stepladder to reach the top of the display case, but he manages to cut the glass along the length of the shield and remove the piece of glass without any of the alarms going off. Crouching to lean it against the case below, he allows himself to exhale threadily. There's the distinct possibility of a silent alarm, but he can't worry about it now, not when removing the shield itself might have some unforeseen effect.

It doesn't.

In fact, Joe's holding it in his hands before long, stepping down from the ladder to place it on the floor by his feet. He packs the ladder first, grateful once more he thought to bring one the perfect size to reach his goal. He balances his rucksack on his knee to zip it up, though he does have a stray thought for the pros of carrying everything on his back. But no, he dismissed the idea days ago for good reason. He needs easy access to his gear in case anything goes wrong. He needs to be light on his feet. He clenches his fingers around it, letting himself feel the weight of it. He might need to run, and this works better for the purpose. Hurrying is definitely the idea here.

He nods to himself.

Then, from behind him: "That is not yours."

Almost jumping out of his skin and very nearly dropping the shield, Joe has to take a second, but then he spins around on his heels fast enough the bottom of his shoes squeak ominously on the wood, heart still beating hard enough to surely damage his ribcage, only to be confronted with someone who is decidedly not security, unless their uniforms involve a lot of tweet and poorly-groomed facial hair.

Then, from in front of him: "Oh."

Very large eyes open even wider behind thick frames. There's a good amount of shock there, and Joe can't say he isn't feeling a hearty amount of it himself.

Not how he thought his night would go, not by far, but, well, this is simply another obstacle.

Shoulders loosening, though not enough where he might drop his bounty, he beams. "It's not yours either."

The stranger has a messenger bag slung around one very broad shoulder, though the pissed off expression is kind of diminishing the immediate appeal. Joe would say academic on principle. After all, he should know.

"That is not the point." Pissed off is right.

Since he has no actual comeback to that and no one from the security team has yet to appear, he says, "Joe." That seems to unmoor the stranger enough for Joe to tilt his head to ask, "And what is _your_ name?"

"Uh. Nicky?" He's squinting with definite suspicion in Joe's general direction. He hardly looks pleased, but he's not running for help either, which is as much of an opening as Joe needs.

Fingers clenching around the edge of the shield and feet planting themselves solidly against the wood flooring, he lets himself smirk. "Aren't you sure?"

As much as he's enjoying seeing the flush bloom and spread on the rather pretty face of this very attractive man that just so happened to catch him in the act of what Joe is reasonably sure doesn't constitute any form of treason—though he could see how some people might take a dim view of the proceedings regardless—he would much prefer making a swift and uncomplicated exit. His eyes flicker over Nicky's right shoulder and back to his eyes. He forces himself not to blink. They're in an odd sort of stand-off, but Joe's still recalibrating his plan of escape, which should have involved the North stairs and a bit of clever manoeuvring, probably a few disabled locks on his way out.

Chewing on his bottom lip, Nicky is the one to eventually break the silence to say, "Professor Al-Kaysani. Or... that's the name that you publish under. Eh..." he trails off, mouth hanging open for a long moment afterwards.

And... Joe is stunned. Once again, he's thankful he doesn't drop the shield. Instead, he freezes, eyes narrowing. Waits him out.

"I recognised you from a conference," Nicky stammers. "Last year. You spoke at. In Switzerland." All this, he says while holding his eyes, and it's almost but not quite enough to make him forget he's sort of definitely fucked.

Eventually, he manages, "Didn't know I was famous." His mouth is particularly dry.

"You're very good. In your field," Nicky explains. As if that's an explanation. It would be cute and unquestionably flattering were it not for the huge amounts of shit he's currently in.

Licking his lips, Joe forces himself to ask, "How screwed am I?" By now, he's fully aware the North stairs are his only option, but he's leaving a witness behind, of course he is. This was never going to be about violence, but _fuck_ , this is someone who can identify him without a care. This is bad.

"New South Wales," Nicky says. His eyes are very sharp and very bright.

For the third time in very few minutes, Joe's brain takes a moment to hiccup quietly to itself, before he intelligently says, "What?"

For the first time, Nicky looks away, feet actually shuffling as he scans the room for who knows what, before he returns to staring at Joe. His shoulders straighten. "I am using your transcultural research as the basis of my dissertation. I am making a presupposition? No," he actually shakes his head at himself, "an assumption. About you. You wouldn't steal an object of such importance, not like this. Not unless you had... plans."

After a long moment, Joe says, "New South Wales." Even to his own ears it sounds definitive. Good.

If he's comprehending the right way everything that's happening, then he should be leaving _now_. Instead, he asks, "Do you enjoy your field?"

Nicky sighs. "It lets me be here, like this, researching into the night." He swallows. "But I have doubts it's for me, the way it is right now. I want to do some good," he finishes. His eyes are very dark in the dimness of the gallery.

This is probably the worst idea he's had in a long time. Joe says, "They'll be a plane leaving at seven tomorrow morning at Blackbushe Airport." They stare at each other for so long he begins to think he might have been wrong about this, a dubious hunch that's going to get him into real trouble, but Nicky dispels his doubts, eventually nods, a small smile playing at his lips.

Before he turns to make his way to the stairs, hopeful he has enough time left before the security walk-through royally screws him, Joe adds, smirking, "Careful. Traffic's a pain at that hour," and Nicky, whoever he is, smirks right back.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, Joe steals the Gweagal shield.
> 
> In other news, I want a longfic inspired by Reverse Indiana Jones! Joe. Like, proper longfic! Someone write it for me, please.
> 
> As for this thing, kudos/comments appreciated. I'd love to hear what you thought. It was written in... not very many hours, but, well... Whoops! *cheerily ignores WIPs*
> 
> Tumblr: [rhubarbdreams](https://rhubarbdreams.tumblr.com/)


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